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Tournament of Champions, Valrose, June 1013
Part 1 (As told by Sinthaster Wolfeater...) In my travels throughout the realms, fewer things have dictated my actions more than the glamor of wine, women, and loyal company. The exception to this lies at the end of an honorable sword, baited for battle and the chance of glory. It was for this very reason that I found myself drawn to the familiar allure of the Valrose Tournament of Champions. Indeed, my visitation is nothing of peculiarity this year; I frequent the tournament grounds as often as I can spare to. The combatants of the tournament, however, held new surprises for me. Per the orders of the Darkmoon I was dispatched to lower Gildor to apprehend a cowering clan of acolytes masquerading as a traveling troupe of actors. The tournament was to be no more than a chance for me to pass the time and acquiesce to accompany fair maidens to their lodgings at eve’s end. What occurred instead was my direct involvement in the events to transpire. The tournaments noble spectators included the esteemed Duke Nashuss Khal of Greenwater. I am fortunate to know the man on such a personal level, something rarely awarded those outside of Gildorian nobility. Upon seeing me at the tournament, Khal inquired as to my participation in the battles. I said I was not fighting in the tournament but merely spectating, something I rarely did myself. I joined him for a time, and as the horn blew, I was greeted by the sight of honor duels. Apparently my arrival to the tournament was several days late, as the preliminary matches had ended many days ago. “There is talent this year,” Khal had said. I was soon to discover this for myself. The two combatants who first entered the field caught my eye immediately. The first was a chiseled, steeled fighter of the forest, one Seobryn of the Druids. Though my knowledge of the woodland men is limited, I am now most surely curious. His opponent was Zeno the Tester. He was a young man barely out of boyhood who seemed to have never fought in the tournament before. His clothes alluded to a rough-lived life, and I am fairly certain his lean arms bore many scars. Though his tenacity was never lacking and his speed a wondrous sight to see, I am afraid to say that he now nurses many new wounds; the ferocity of Seobryn is that of an ornery badger. I am sure it will be a long while before Zeno is willing to “test” the might of the forest again. I’m not sure I would either, though I have my hopes. Zeno is fast, and speed can kill even the strongest of foes. We shall see. The next match was perhaps one that surprised me more than anything that first day. Greyne Mobilis was the first fighter. Our paths have crossed before, and thankfully never in a way that would pit us against one another. Of the many men of Lancerus who can fight on par with myself, few scare me more than Greyne. And yet, from that day forth, he shall carry a new scar. Though he won the match, one Shamus Stormcrow (not his real name, I am sure) was able to scratch the fair cheek of Greyne with a thrust of his spear. It would appear the forest has produced many a capable fighter these last many years. A visitation to the woods seems more warranted now than ever before. The next day the fighters assembled and I witnessed a spectacle I am sure I would never see. I awoke from my pavilion with a fine courtesan in tow (whose name seems to have utterly escaped me) to the sight of two men standing stoically in the field. There was an immense aura of emotion permeating the air, and the men entered the arena weapons drawn. I recognized one as quickly as I draw breath; Nex Belain . He brandished two swords and an ungodly large smirk as he entered the fight. Indeed, his fans were numerous amongst the crowd, and he had no reason to contain his showmanship. His opponent was a strong man with whom I was not familiar. I would have placed my entire coin purse on the victory of Nex; I’m glad I did not, for I would have been a poor man. Nex Belain, hero of Arn and lady luck’s lover, was bested by a man I have never seen or heard of before. I found out sometime after the fight that his name was Laulterec Hammerind . His battle with Nex Belain surprised me in the fact that Hammerind was not afraid of the legendary prowess of Nex. Although there is the possibility that Belain is slipping, I think it instead lies in the heart of Hammerind. A willingness to learn and a fearlessness to face any obstacle: I believe I must keep my eye on this one. It was some time before the events began again, as the uproar from the crowd was insatiable. As I turned I witnessed a magnanimous woman up in arms against some of the tournament organizers. She was young, still firmly wedged into her teenage years I would surmise. My woman, still tagging behind me, now spoke. “That be the Lady Calicana. What make you of this, my lord?” I shooed the wench away, engulfed in the struggle. Calicana was a wretchedly sorrowful tale. Bastardized and of noble blood, nicknamed The Phoenix by her peers of old… sad, but interesting. Her plight now, however, was being barred. She had won her way past the preliminaries but was being denied access due to her “age” and “gender”. If I were her, I would have given them two swift kicks to their cum-crusted jewels and spat on their heads. I was just about to move to intercept the screaming when another man ended the feckless squabble. “Please good sirs, my next combatant would not wish to be mistreated so before her next bout. My name is Horeak Trannyth, and I am to fight the Lady Calicana in the next match.” And indeed they did, for shortly thereafter the field was littered with Horeak’s blood. It would seem he underestimated the young “adventurer” and received a slash to the thigh followed by a gouge to the stomach. He will live, but oddly enough, he smiled the whole fight. Either this man is not all there, or he has one very odd fetish involving the bloodletting of his body at the hands of pretty girls with swords. Either way, it was certainly fun to watch. I would have stayed and conversed with him longer, but Calicana drew my attention first. That, and she wasn’t bleeding profusely. As I was preparing to converse with the girl, Nashuss appeared before me. “This way, Wolfeater. This match may hold more interest to you than the others.” Dismayed at being removed from the immediate vicinity of young women I found myself reluctant to watch the fight. Then the fighters entered the field, and my eyes met the gaze of Aurilus . We had crossed paths before: we shared lodgings one night amidst the fury of a thunderstorm in an abandoned house. He was now just as he was then: cold. He eyed his opponent like that of a hungry wolf, a look I know all too well. His opponent was Eimar. Little is known about this new fighter, though he seems to have some fighting experience beyond his young years. He used a fighting style similar to the one I first used back in my youth before the Darkmoon. It was satisfying to see it still viable, though in an instant, I witnessed its shortcomings. Aurilus, despite his peasant demeanor and lack of formal training, is a monster when he so desires. A swift strike from both combatants left Aurilus with an injured leg, though as Eimar’s adrenaline wore off, he realized his ribcage ached with pain. He was later treated for a serious gash to the chest. Lucky sod was fortunate not to have a lung punctured. I’m glad to see this will not deter him, though. He has huge potential, and I would be saddened to see it untapped. I spoke with Aurilus shortly thereafter and asked him how he had fared since our last meeting. As expected, he picked up his things and returned to his tent without so much as a word. Wretched tit. Perhaps I should have entered the tournament so as to finally issue him the beating he is so desperately asking for. Strong boy, but he lacks guidance. Last of the preliminaries was the intrepid Ben Spaygos . I swear if I hear “Lord of Maps, follower of the Atlas,” one more time, I shall cut Spaygos a fresh vagina and then proceed to have intercourse with it. According to him, he is eternally young, as he has found the “inner zen.” I’m sure if there were truth to it, the Darkmoon would have descended upon him years ago. Though perhaps, for once, my masters are unaware of something so unique in Lancerus. Still, pleasant enough fellow. He fought the young Chicot, who frankly amazed me at his ability to make it as far as the preliminaries. As expected, the fight was handed to Spaygos. It is obvious to me that Spaygos has begun to utilize a style of fighting akin to that of Greyne Mobilis, which, even imitated poorly, is still quite lethal. I shall see to it that Spaygos and I cross blades in the future, if for no other reason than to test him… and steal his maps. That night I visited with Greyne in his tent. Though we had met each other only briefly before, our respect for each other was permeable. “Come, sit,” he said to me. Over stew we conversed about the recent events of Lancerus and the journeys we had each taken since our last visit. The Seven came up often in our talk, and I wonder if Greyne is more interested in the Godswalk than last I had suspected. I dare not inquire further, however. Nothing, save perhaps gonorrhea, scares me more than Termura’s wrath. So for now, I shall let him be. Our conversation was interrupted upon the visitation of Lady Calicana to our tent. She was startled by my presence, apparently expecting Greyne to be alone. “I’m sorry…” “It’s quite alright,” I said. “Please, join us.” In retrospect, perhaps I should not have assumed Greyne would be welcome to more company. Alas, even had I known, I probably would not have cared. “No, I merely walked into the wrong tent. Excuse me, my lords.” With that she took her leave. “What say you to that, Mobilis? Foul play? Possible night-time romp?” “Eh.” Eloquent as ever, Greyne. Part 2 The next day I was troubled to find that the intense aroma of spicy pepper and Arnish asshole pervaded the air of my tent. This was unfortunate, as I don’t much care for spicy pepper. “Sinthaster, you overslept!” Greyne said from outside the tent. “Come or you will miss the fights.” “Hold a moment, Greyne. What occurred last night? My heroically low tolerance has foiled my memory once again.” “You got drunk, invited several courtesans into my tent, and proceeded to tell them how much more attractive you were than Ben Spaygos.” “Ah, sounds like a grand evening. Who is first to fight?” Greyne smiled, brandishing Termura. “I am to fight the young lady.” “Perfect! I can think of no better way to start my day then by watching you spank some poor girl senseless. I shall be there shortly.” I donned my casual attire and surveyed the grounds. The crowds had intensified from yesterday, eager for blood at the hands of the more experienced, vicious combatants. Though Valrose rules were point based and disarms were considered wins, there were always casualties of a zealous sword. From across the field I saw Calicana preparing herself for the battle against Greyne. As I approached, I noticed that she was considering what weapons to use against Mobilis. “Lady Calicana, if I may offer my expertise…” “I do not need your help, Darkmoon. I am able to make this decision on my own.” Her eyes darted back and forth between the weapons of a large display that had been brought for her. “I merely offer my counsel on what I think would-” “I do not need ''the expertise of an over-glorified, lust-driven cur of a man who clings to his shell of a title. Darkmoon Saint? You? You do not even fight in the tournament. How can one such as yourself call themselves a Blade of Húrin?” I laughed, unable to oppose her man-slut remarks. “It seems a strike a foul chord with you. Allow me your attention a moment…” She failed to turn her eyes towards me. Therefore, she had that slap to the ass coming. By extension, I also had that dagger to the face coming as well. As my hand clenched around hers, keeping the dagger far from my face, I stared her down. “I am a dangerous man, Calicana. Not for my strength like Nex Belain, nor for my speed like Greyne Mobilis. I am dangerous for my mind.” “How do you mean?” There was a slight tremble in her voice. There was also a fire in her eyes, like the burning of soft embers. I disarmed the dagger, throwing it into the ground behind me, and laid my hand on her shoulder. “Take the shield. With enough speed you can press into Greyne while keeping Termura at bay.” Calicana spit in my face and withdrew from my grasp. “I will trust my own instincts on this, ‘Lord’ Sinthaster. You are no warrior, merely a pompous foreigner with much wealth and a hefty title bought by gold. You do not fight but merely sit and watch as the other noble hogs do. How you ever garnered the recognition beyond that of brothel sluts is beyond me. Good day to you.” She later, out of spite, would choose to ignore my advice and dual-wield swords against him. Poor girl would have been better off simply bending over and taking it up the ass. I would feel worse for her were it not for her smug attitude, but frankly, it may be what makes me so keen for her? I noticed, despite her failure, that she seemed to have carefully studied every move that Greyne had made, and certainly, many of the other fighters as well. Is there more to this Phoenix than what little I have ascertained already? Spaygos the crude cartographer and Seobryn met on the field next. The two fighting spirits were palpable yet oh so different in flavor: one, a haughty dwarfish ale brewed with rocks and dirt, the other a light blend of raspberries, chamomile petals and fairy spit. I’ll leave you to figure out the respective auras associated with each. Though Spaygos of the East and West fought long, hard, and with a very erect weapon, he was no match for Seobryn’s unfaltering wood. The poor Master of Atlases was pounded mercilessly. The animalistic rage of Seobryn was so intense that new spectators to the match had believed a man possessed by a demon was sexually abusing Spaygos. More or less the truth, really. After the match, Spaygos approached me while I tended to my hunger at the pavilion. It’s amazing how intensely one can clench their nether parts when that man is around. “Sinthaster, did you see the match?” He was bandaged and bruised but seemed rather chipper. “I did indeed, Spaygos. ‘Twas a sight to see for all.” “Hey Sinthaster?” “Yes, Spaygos?” “What does a map key and myself have in common?” Dear Seven not this again. “I don’t know, Spaygos.” “They’re both ''legends!” And then that dorky smile… “Wait I have another. Why do paper maps always lose at poker?” “I really just-” “Because they always fold! I am so good. Now now, what do you get when you cross me with a member of the bovine family?” I ran so fast. Still, I could clearly hear him scream “cow-tographer!” at me… and I died a little inside. I had accrued a new wench as company and used her as a meat-shield in case Spaygos reared his frightening head again. We approached the battle grounds just as Aurilus and Laulterec were taking the field. Sad as it was, I missed a majority of the fight; someone’s shirt decided to give me a little peep show. As much as I love bloodshed, I simply cannot pass up the opportunity to hold a staring contest with an exposed breast. As such, I didn’t witness the bloody victory from Laulterec. I did get to see breast, so there’s that at least. “Sinthaster, may I have a word?” Nashuss said to me from behind. I then proceeded to shoo happy nips away as I gave him my ear. “The finals are coming up soon, but after the matches are over and the winner is crowned, I need you to come to my tent. It is a matter of grave importance.” I nodded, assuring him that I would be there. The final battle was split into two parts. First, a three-way free for all between Greyne Mobilis, Seobryn and Laulterec Hammerind would wittle down there numbers. One of these three men would be eliminated, leaving the other two to duel for the championship. Nashuss himself oversaw the proceedings of the fight. He walked down to the field, his glistening sword at his side. “To each his own honor for making it this far into the tournament. You have all proven yourselves to be very capable fighters. May the Seven watch over you in this conflict of willpower. Now, raise your weapons.” Seobryn, Greyne, and Laulterec raised their weapons and prepared for the bout. The crowds begin to cheer for their favorite combatant, myself throwing applause for all. “Lay on!” The fighters quickly separated, eyeing each other for an opening. Greyne swept opponents away with his reach, leaving Seobryn and Laulterec to battle it out amongst themselves. The courage that Seobryn displayed was immense: even with a sturdy shield with which to defend himself, a solid hit from Eberrus is enough to shatter an arm. He truly is fearless. Seobryn, tucking his body behind his shield, endured a massive blow from the hammer and connected a solid hit to Hammerind’s torso. The cut seemed deep, as Seobryn’s blade was coated in blood upon exit. In his anger, Laulterec gripped his hammer and threw it into the crowd. Were it not for a well-placed Nex Belain, someone surely would have been killed. In his strength, he grabbed several people and flung them behind himself as the hammer struck a wooden riser, smashing it to pieces. It is truly difficult to decide where his skill ends and his luck begins. In the aftermath, Hammerind was disqualified. He refused treatment for his wound, preferring to walk it off. He retrieved his hammer, apologized for the incident, and walked back to his tent. All I will say is, Fumna have mercy on the serfs who have to clean up that mess. That hammer probably weighs more than I do. Then, I saw them… only for a moment, but my eyes did not deceive me. As the combatants were preparing for the final bout, several men garbed in black appeared nearby; their eyes were fixated on Greyne, an intense focus glazing their senses. It was not a look of malice but more of… approval. I do not know why but my sword arm itched for those men, an odd feeling I seldom get. I made sure to track them as the bout began. I would love to write the glories of battle here. I would love to admit that Greyne fought hard, or that Seobryn’s talents shone through. It is hard to embellish the events of the final bout. “Murder,” is one word for it, nice and strong. Seobryn is a fierce warrior, there is no denying that. His druidic background has made him an adept fighter, and it is true he is probably the fastest of his kin. I do not know what manner of beasts he fought in the wilderness, but I do know that none of them were Greyne Mobilis, the Lightning blade. For every attack that Seobryn made, Greyne had an answer. It was an intense battle. Many of Seobryn’s attacks were strong and fierce, and some even came somewhat close to contact with the Lightning blade. Close, however, does not win a battle. Greyne was crowned champion of Valrose with several quick strikes from Termura. As Seobryn fell to his knees in defeat, I continued to watch the mysterious men in black. A grin on their faces, they disappeared into the crowd. I shall look into this. Part 3 The crowning ceremony was about to commence when I was pulled aside by Nashuss Khal and Aurilus. I was brought into Khal’s tent, an aura of tension surrounding the Duke. “Sinthaster, a matter of grave importance has arisen.” He waved Aurilus out of the tent briefly. “I will call you when I need you, Aurilus.” The boy obliged and left the tent. “Now, Sinthaster, I will keep this quick as I do not wish to miss the festivities. Too many beautiful women.” “Agreed, my lord.” The Duke pulled a letter from his coat, handing it to me. The broken seal, when reassembled, was the stamp of House Aurhowm. “My lord, this is…” “A letter from King Gantris of Gildor.” “I do not respect enough authority to read such a note.” “Relax. You are the second captain of the Darkmoon Saints and my friend. I trust you with this information.” I conceded. As I read, I realized it was a dictation written by the King’s scribe. As I read, I realized how dire the situation really was… Duke Nashuss Khal, I will be blunt as I do not have much time. I have fallen ill. My doctors have informed me that I have accrued a deadly disease of Rhivician origin. Will of the Seven. My old age has finally succumbed to the powers of this world, it would seem. I am still of sound mind, however, so although what I am about to say may seem incredulous, it is my wish unclouded. The kingdoms of men are aware that in my long reign, I was unable to sire a son. The throne will become vulnerable; my line has ended with me. If I am to die, the Dukes will have to elect a new King to the throne from one of their number. Normally I would recommend you to take my place… normally. But I ask a boon of thee, one that will require sacrifice no man should ever be asked. The Dukes will take too long electing a new King, leaving us prone. We all know of the Larken forces at work, and my seers inform me that a new Age is dawning; the Godswalk. It will be a time of turmoil, a time of peril, a time of bloodshed. We need a strong King, one who will not break or bend to the whims of the enemies of Gildor. We need a man from the true line of Kings. One yet remains to this world. The Elves of Lindala have harbored, per my request, the last descendant of Arik Whitefang. The Aurhowm line has known of the Whitefang’s suriving descendants for many generations, all of whom were kept secret and hidden away. You obviously know why I would have been apprehensive to surrender the throne to a Whitefang before, but now I have no choice. His name Is Darshia Whitefang and he is being guarded in Lindala. You must retrieve him and advocate for his return to the throne of Gildor. It will be hard. The people may not trust a Whitefang, not even after all these years, but I know Darshia. He is strong, he is wise, and he has the same ‘gift’ that made his ancestor Arik so feared. We need that now. I trust only you with this information, but you will need allies. There are some who you may call upon. The Elves will advocate for Darshia. I am also informed you are close with Wolfeater of the Darkmoon. The Saints of Hurin have ever been allies of the King, and indeed, the Whitefang line was one of the original founders of the Darkmoon Saints. Do this for me swiftly, my friend. Time is of the essence. I fear that I may not see you again until we have both been taken to the Seven above. It pains me to know I will not see you in my dying hours, but do this for me, and the honor of the line of Aurhowm will follow the Khal’s for all your days. Your friend and King, Gantris Aurhowm III I stood a moment, unsure of what was to follow. “My lord, what do you ask of me?” “You are to drop your quest for the cult and surrender that to another Darkmoon. You are to be my right hand in these affairs. The Elves of Lindala will not speak with us directly unless we show our devotion.” “And how, my lord, do we do that?” “We spill blood: Our own, and their enemies. The Elves have long fought against the orcs of the Gazing Mountains. The Elves do not have the numbers to mount an attack on the orcs but can only defend. We do not lack numbers. I will surrender a battalion of Gildor soldiers to you. Using whatever tactics you deem necessary, rout the enemy from the Elves doorstep. The orcish cheiftan, Frogock the Rock, is their pillar. Kill him, and the rest will fall.” “My lord…” “Do this for me. And for the Darkmoon. If a Whitefang is put on the throne, your clansmen will have power akin to their glory days. Aurilus has been paid handsomely to go with you.” “Aurilus? Why him?” “Because he is swayed by gold and has a good sword arm. Survival in this world is his only goal, and money is equivalent to survival. As long as you have the most gold, you know where his loyalties are. Also, this tournament is fertile ground for mercenary recruitment. Give no details of the importance of the mission, but accrue as much talent as you can. We will need it. Good luck, Wolfeater.” I left the tent, Aurilus makng a poor replacement as a wench, and delved into the festivities. I would recruit a small battalion, siege Frogock, and liberate Darshia. All of this could be done drunk, however, and I made sure to do just that. Fumna keep me safe, Hurin give me strength. Another Viewpoint Here is the same story as told by: - Lady Calicana - Amarka Notable Acievements - First Lancerus Event ever The Tale Unfold Though their fates are interwoven, their paths now must diverge. Indulge your curiosities; take heed and read below: * Next in Sinthaster's Saga - Hordes of the Rock, Linvale, September 1013 * Next in Greyne's Saga - The Siege on Brill, October 18th, 1013 * Next in Nex's Saga - The Little Deity, June 12, 1014 Category:World Lore